


This is How it Starts (Lightening Strikes the Heart)

by eyesonfire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Louis-centric OT5, M/M, Multi, i think, sorry for overuse of metaphor, x factor era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesonfire/pseuds/eyesonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way it would require no effort at all to fall in love with each of them and how it would seem as natural as anything to do that. It was in everything they did, an inevitability, and the only thing holding this back was themselves and it was only a matter of when. </p><p>Or the one in which Louis falls in love with Harry and his lightening eyes and slowly but surely falls in love with the rest of the boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is How it Starts (Lightening Strikes the Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't even want to talk about how long this is (what makes you haha.mp3)
> 
> Basically for everyone who thinks there is a lack of ot5 in this fandom (which there is) and Nick who told me a sentence in this was "beautiful even though it was about dirty things" 
> 
> Title from "Brighter Than the Sun", Colbie Collait

 

It was the most unlikely place. A bathroom, of all the places in the world. A bathroom, reasonably clean, but still a bathroom, a place that would become a pivotal moment in his life. It was kind of ironic when he thought about it. He'd always believed that moments like these, moments when something happens that makes you stop and gasp and wonder and hope, moments that make you fall in love or break your heart, moments that change the world or change your life; he'd always thought they happened in more glamorous places than a bathroom. All he'd wanted was a moment away from the noise, the crowds and the hopes and the dreams and the worry. It was beautiful, the waiting room, so full of passion and dreams and futures riding on the moment, everyone caught up in the moment, the adrenaline, the knowledge that they weren’t alone and others felt the same passion they did, the same music running in their veins and the same ruthless, burning desire to make this, make this song, this music into their life. But it was too much, all at once, especially for Louis who profoundly felt the beauty in those moments. He could barely handle the sheer wonder and beauty of one person describing their dream, their passion, talking about it with everything they had in them, describing whatever it was they _loved_ , making the words into a song that only they could understand, making their passion flow, hand gestures large and grand and eyes sparkling and wonderful, and he was here, surrounded by it and fuck if it wasn’t making him a little bit emotional because shit, there was so much _passion_ and so much _dream_ and it was _wonderful_. He just needed to get back to himself and touch reality for a second. The bathroom was very nearly deserted when he walked in, a lone figure standing by the sinks, eyes seemingly closed, taking deep, steadying breathes. Louis recognised the signs of someone trying to hold off a panic attack maybe, or centring themselves before the performance of a life time.

“Hi!” he’d chirped, cheerful as you please at the solemn stranger standing stock still. And hardly expecting a reply, he turned to turn the faucet on, maybe splash some cold water on his face when he realised the other man wasn’t really a man at all but rather a boy, a boy who had spun towards him too quickly and managed to splash water from his tap over Louis’ shirt.

“Oops,” the boy said, half apologetic and half cheeky, and he was grinning lopsidedly at him and holding out a hand.

“Sorry mate,” the kid said in a voice that wasn’t fully matured but was deep and luxurious and melodic. Louis was sure he could drown in it. The kid was taller than him, unruly curls peeking out from under a cheap beanie, springing when he moved his head even slightly.

“Louis,” Louis had introduced, taking the boys hand and shaking firmly and pleasantly, and the kids huge mitts were warm and dry and solid and encompassed his whole, admittedly small hand.

And then the Louis looked, really looked at him, and he froze, captivated by eyes that sparkled like lightening, cheeky and laughing even under the layer of nerves that everyone here sported, the layer of slight manic panic that everyone had, everyone here for the same reason, the same dream. His green eyes shone, deep pools of emotion that gave away every change in the boy. Friendly greeting, laughter, anxiety, and back to worry. The nerves in those eyes had tugged at Louis’ heartstrings, as though this boy that seemed strangely young and innocent, a colt, legs too long for his body and slightly gangly, should never be worried, should never display anything but happiness in those green eyes.

His protective instincts honed through years of younger sisters and a single mother rushed to the surface, instant and overpowering and he wanted nothing more than to reassure this kid with the flashing green eyes and so he demanded an autograph, and a photo with the kid, reassuring him he’d get through and playing it up like he’d become famous. It wasn’t even just platitudes. Louis had feelings, knew things, always had, he had a ‘mothers intuition’ his own mother called it, and he could tell this kid with the curls was going to go far. Harry, his name was. Harry. And when the kid left the bathroom, the layer of nerves smothered by laughter and cheekiness Louis felt it was a job well done and allowed himself to breathe and relax the trembling in his fingers. The _eyes_ , the sparkling eyes of the kid were like lightening and Louis knew they'd flash dangerously when he was angry, and sparkle with mirth when someone made him laugh and glint darkly with determination when he was resolved and crackle ferociously when someone hurt someone he loved and Louis was breathless with awe at him, at the passion and the unbridles expressiveness of his eyes.

It was five minutes later when Louis realised standing in an empty bathroom alone daydreaming about the shining eyes of the kid who’d just left wasn’t normal behaviour, and that was when Louis realised something momentous had occurred, and unlike in his story books and his fantasies and his daydreams and the movies, he hadn’t realised then and there and he hadn’t been stopped mid-sentence with the revelation and thunder hadn’t boomed in the sky and he was in a bathroom, an ordinary bathroom, sterile and white and clean and it was a lot like getting stuck by lightening must be like, he pondered.

You hover, captivated by beauty and wonder and awe and you freeze, as if caught up in a spell, not wanting to shatter the moment, so powerful and raw and forceful before you, outlining just how small you really are and then all of a sudden it’s too close and your insides are being fried and you're being turned inside out and burned and you don’t know which way's up or where home is or what your name is and you feel scorched and you're on fire and then after you're left blinking hazily, confused and dazed and just generally unable to think of anything else. You don’t see it coming and when it’s over, instants and lifetimes later you're not really sure what happened, only that it _did_ and for some strange reason nothing is the same.

It was like sticking his finger in a socket: a rush of heat and electricity and everything goes mental and your hair stands on end and your brain is yelling at you that you’re doing something really, _really stupid._

Like getting shot by a bullet: a flash of light and heat and a puff of smoke until it’s speeding towards you and there’s nothing you can do to get out the way, there’s no time to think or speak or act.

Blinking the flashes of light from his eyes, Louis dazedly wandered out of the bathroom and back into the room full of fear and nerves and dreams and hopes and wants and he felt as though his hair was on end and his fingers were tingling and he could feel everything as if the electrical shock that still fizzled through his veins had sharpened his senses somehow, opened his eyes as if he'd somehow gone his entire life without really feeling even half of what he was capable of feeling, what he was feeling right now. His heart pumping rapidly in his chest felt louder and stronger than ever before, like the lightening had shocked it into action. He felt overwhelmed in this room before, the magnitude of hope and passion too much and too strong and now it was stronger, even more powerful and even more potent and surely he would collapse but a warmth in his chest sprouted and grew, erupting from his fried heart and flowing outwards filling him up and chasing away the pain of _feeling,_ making him feel light and floating and as if he was glowing and he somehow stumbled through the rest of the day, unable to shake the tingly feeling but managing to get his heart rate under control.

~

His mother commented, after the celebration dinner his family prepared for him, friends and family congratulating him on making it through to boot camp, telling him he looked unsteady and he nearly snorted, the understatement almost amusing him but not enough to override the worry because surely this wasn’t normal, this boy, even with his magical eyes shouldn’t be able to do this to him, not with one conversation, if you could even call it that. But that night lying in his own bed, his family safe in the house and the dark and silence comforting rather than oppressive because it gave him a moment to _think_ and try to sort this out in his head and breathe for a moment and as his mind roved over that moment, that miniscule two minutes or so when the world had stopped turning and a boy with curls had introduced himself as _Harreh_ he felt liquid heat pooling low in his stomach; Harry’s cheeky grin the lit up brighter than the sun, illuminated the room, contagious and outrageous, making everyone smile along without knowing the reason. His hands, so much bigger than Louis’ own. His lips, perfect and full and red and his curls, shiny and soft and bouncy and his eyes, oh god, his eyes, framed by long thick lashes and smooth expanses of skin and the eyes that stole Louis breath and stole his brain and stole his heart and if he was meant to be sorting out what the fuck this meant in his head his growing arousal wasn’t helping. He didn’t understand why or what was happening, only that Harry was the most gorgeous boy he'd ever seen, perfectly poised between devastatingly sexy and heartbreakingly innocent and god if he wasn’t hard already. _His hands buried in that hair, his mouth surrounded by Harry's plump lips_. Images of Harry wearing nothing but that cheeky grin flashed across his brain, searing, burning, leaving imprints on his skull, burned into his eyelids and then he wasn’t thinking about how perverted it was to be thinking these things about a near-perfect stranger, he wasn’t thinking about how he would have to see this kid again and he wasn’t thinking about how he would have to figure this all out in his head and he wasn’t thinking about how he was straight and had been into girl since he discovered what boobs were and he was only thinking of Harry, only Harry. _Harry's eyes and Harry's hair and his hands and doing filthy things to him and his hand trailed down to his cock almost unconsciously and Harry spread out, waiting and wrecked for him. His long torso tight and muscle and covered with a light sheen of sweat, curls damp and sticking to his forehead. Eyes shut, fingers working, nipples hard._

Louis exhaled shakily, doubt flashing across his mind as he wondered what the hell he was doing but then unbidden images of his _hands buried in those curls as he was buried inside Harry, moving inside hot, slick, wet warmth, Harry moaning and his cock trapped between them_ and Louis’ thumb circled the head of his weeping cock, smearing the liquid around and gripping his shaft almost painfully tightly as _those eyes flashed up at him from Harry's face near his cock, his knees on the ground and his mouth ready just for him, Louis’ cock pumping in and out of those red lips so full and ready. His eyes closed, the red hot lightening trapped behind eyelids as Louis’ wrecked him, pleasure too much as Harry mewled and came again, coating both of their abdomens in come and looking so undone and so open and so honest and it was for him, all for him_ _and_ Louis’ other hand cupped his balls, his breath coming quickly now, hand pumping up and down his shaft, urgency and desperation in his burning muscles and it was so much more intense than usual, so much more and Louis bit his lip to keep in the groan and his breath caught again _as Harry spread himself, hands and knees, ready and waiting_ and Louis’ hand spasmed and his hips half bucked and his hand was slick with precome and sweat and he knew he was panting and he praised the fact that his mother had enough foresight to put him on the other side of the house to the girls and _then Harry was on his back, eyes locked with Louis’ as Louis slowly rocked into him and Harry was against a wall, long, strong legs wrapped around Louis’ waist as he thrust messily and irregularly into him, his teeth and tongue marking Harry's neck and Harry was in the shower, looking like a god above him with the water running from his wet curls down his face and drips running between his abs, dripping wet and dripping precome and Louis lapped it up and took the boy into his mouth_ and Louis’ hand was flying, muscles protesting as the sensations and the images and the obscene sounds of his hand slapping flesh became too much and he wasn’t going to last and his blood was boiling in his veins and _Harry winked filthily at him, again on his knees, his perfect full mouth looking red and abused as he opened and took Louis’ all the way in, cock touching throat and Louis’ hands were twisting in his curls and pulling his head impossibly closer, Harry expertly swallowing him and twisting and rolling his balls and it was his eyes gazing up at him, so innocent and cheeky and sexy_ and his eyes pushed him over the edge and Louis gladly let go and fell into oblivion, _releasing down Harry's throat_ and releasing over his own hand and stomach and fuck if that wasn’t the best orgasm he'd had in a long time.

And as Louis lay in his bed, wet and panting and disgusting he couldn’t find it in himself to care about what he'd just done, couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed and couldn’t do much more than pull his boxers from where he’d shoved them down to his feet off and use them to wipe up his release and half-heartedly aim them toward his floor before surrendering to sleep and dreams haunted by green eyes and thunder storms.

~

The next morning the cold, weak light of the sun bored through the chink in his curtains and fell across his face, his room illuminated, his boxers lying on the ground and his skin cold from sleeping naked. Blinking slowly, not quite ready to wake up, the harsh light of the day threw his activities the night before into relief and he could almost pinpoint the instant that his cheeks flooded with colour. And the shame he couldn’t bring himself to feel the night before and the confusion he’d supressed came rushing back and he groaned, throwing an arm over his face and contemplating lying in bed for the rest of his life. Embarrassment burning in his cheeks, he bumbled through breakfast after showering and was out the door before his mum could pick up on his fidgety mood. He threw a jacket on as he walked down the steps with a “back later, mum!” thrown over his shoulder as he left the confines of his house, the walls reminding him of what he'd done the night before and the gazes of his sisters too innocent and naïve for him to stomach.

He walked aimlessly, the fresh morning air slapping at his face, but waking him up. Hands shoved in pockets, shoulders drawn in against the cold air, he felt like the picture of a lost youth. And then, when he’d walked far enough away that the thoughts that were bound to come wouldn’t cause him to keel over and die with some misguided fear that somehow his mother could hear him, he stopped blocking it, a weary sigh escaping his lips and he resigned himself to the fact he would have to do some serious figuring out in his head. The thoughts swirled around in a crazy light show, violets and reds and deep blues and green, emeralds and oceans and fields of grass and trees and his mother’s tea and eyes. There were too many of them, too fast and he couldn’t make sense of them, couldn’t figure them out and he nearly growled in frustration, kicking at a rock on the footpath. And he took a deep breath and counted to ten, and closed his eyes. The green was dominant, overrunning everything, vines and moss coating everything like a fairy tale castle. And he couldn’t figure out why this kid was doing this. And he knew it was important: he'd always been taught never to ignore his instincts and he knew that this was far, far too important to even think about ignoring, shoving down and shutting the lid on, but for the life of him he had no idea why he couldn’t stop thinking about him, why he'd gotten off to the thought of this kid and his sparkling green eyes. The fact that he would see him again hit him like a brick because he'd forgotten that in two days he would have to go back and go to boot camp and Harry would be there too, Harry would be singing and dancing, and belting out his dreams on stage and Louis knew he would take his breath away and suddenly the day after tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

He needed to see the kid again, and convince himself there was nothing, it was nothing, it was his nerves and him being overwhelmed and he simply latched onto something beautiful and held it tight and now his mind was obsessing over it and he knew when he saw Harry again he would be reassured that there was nothing special about him, he was just another ordinary lad, scared out of his mind and with a dream bigger than his voice and he would be back to normal.

The arguments sounded futile even in Louis’ own head and he sighed again, world-weary and long-suffering. It was a more reasonable hour now, people appearing on the streets and in coffee shops around him and he ducked into the closest one to grab a tea to carry with him and he started the long trudge back to his house. His mind was frazzled, fried and it felt overworked. Louis wasn’t used to feeling so confused, he generally had things pretty sussed out and the fact that he had literally _no idea_ what was going on inside his own head and inside his own chest and inside his own body scared him more than he would admit and whenever he thought the name _Harry_ said in that slow, lilting Cheshire accent his heart sped up more than he would care for it to and he had the strangest urge to smile. There was no way he'd be discussing this with his mother, as he had with most issues he'd ever had, he needed to wait and see this kid again and sort it out in his own head.

~

He stumbled back into the house shortly before midday, the morning lost to his wonderings and the makings of panic, and the rest of the day passed in mundane, blessed normalcy, his sisters whining and wanting to play and his mum doing a thousand things at once and he sat in the middle of the chaos, drinking it in, braiding a twin’s hair and playing patty cake with the youngest and he felt a sense of foreboding amidst the calm, as though this would be the last time he would get to do this for a while, and so he appreciated it. When the girls’ bedtimes came he gave them extra tight hugs and as his mum and him sat watching telly later she didn’t comment, but he could see her watching him out of the corner of his eye, not with concern as such, but with an odd look on her face. He didn’t call attention to it, didn’t break the companionable silence and the amiable chatting but he noticed when she hugged him harder than usual, and if she sounded a little choked up wishing him a good night, he didn’t mention that either.

The next day passed much the same. He slept better than he had for weeks, if not years, feeling warm and safe and surrounded and watched over and the green eyes twinkled at him, and the curls spun but the boy didn’t approach him, he stayed in the distance, just out of reach. Jay took him and the girls out for brunch, and the loud, unruly lot of them drew looks from the other patrons but they didn’t care, boisterous and noisy and having more fun than Louis had had in a while. That nagging feeling was still there in the back of his head, telling him this time was limited and that he should enjoy it while it lasted and enjoy himself he did, the lot of them dissolving into uncontrollable giggles over their English breakfast, each trying to outdo the other with stories and news and they all talked over the other and it was the Tomlinson family, pure and unadulterated and the warmth that had been present in his chest since visiting the bathroom the day before yesterday threatened to fill him up and overflow.

~

Another rainy Doncaster afternoon saw them inside, some movie on for the girls, his mum curled up with a book and he was left to sit on the couch and watch his family. The afternoon slipped away frighteningly fast and it was time for dinner and bed and the minutes seemed to be flying by and Louis lay in bed, unable to sleep and time continued to rush past, not crawling as per usual sleepless night. The minutes turned into hours and then he must have dozed off because it was past time to get up and someone was banging on his door and the mad rush that ensued saw them out of the house and on their way to drop Louis off at X Factor Boot Camp within half an hour. It was coming to fast, too quickly and Louis didn’t have time to centre himself, time to prepare and then they were there, his mum tearing up as she told him to have fun and that she knew he would get through and that he was her baby and the girls weren’t much better, loud excitement and exuberance rather than tears and then they were gone and Louis was alone.

~

 

They'd been split into categories, the field narrowing drastically from everyone to just boys and Louis knew it was only a matter of time before he spotted Harry and his palms were sweaty. And then after the dancing section of the day, (in which the biggest drama was some kid named Zayn getting cold feet and then coming back and doing it, and Louis made sure to cheer extra loud for him when he finished the dancing, gangly and uncoordinated and looking like he was scared shitless because he knew that took _courage_ and strength and he knew how hard it was to put yourself on display like that), they were sitting around the stage area, the judges sitting blank and calm in front of them and then a row of boys would go out and sing one at a time and it was _pure_ and _raw_ and _beautiful_ and Louis nearly lost himself in the warbles and tenors and notes and the dreams and then it was Harry on that stage and Harry opened his mouth and Harry sang.

Lightening flashed.

The world stopped.

Louis fell.

 

And then as the boys, none of them after him so breath-taking, so raw and powerful and open and none worth remembering filed off the stage and Harry caught Louis’ eye and blinked in surprise and then a genuine grin crept across his face, that grin that lit up the room, lighting the boy from the inside out. He seemed to be making his way towards him but then Louis’ name was called and he made his way into line to go out on stage in front of the impressively and frighteningly blank judges and he didn’t miss the disappointment flash through Harry’s expressive eyes and his breath caught and he didn’t even want to think about what that could mean right now because he had to sing and he had to impress the judges and he had to bare his soul and the beautiful boy now waiting backstage wasn’t allowed to distract him and he sang.

**~**

It wasn’t enough. The lot of them had lined up, solemn and terrified and breathless and praying and the names had been read out, one by one and there was no Harry and there was no Louis and Louis was sure he'd never really felt disappointment until this moment, and really that wasn’t strong enough a word because this was more, this was everything and it was crushing and he felt his eyes well up embarrassingly but he didn’t care because the others were crying too, manliness and macho-ness and confidence gone, wiped away by the tears and the bitter taste of failure. Because it was failure, ultimately. They had no one to blame but themselves. They had a chance. They'd done their best. It wasn’t enough. And what do you do when your best isn’t enough?

~

He'd passed Harry in a hallway after the numb phone call to his mum, voice breaking as he told her he hadn’t made it, a touch of a hand on a back and then he was swept up in Harry's arms, tight and constricting around him and Harry was taking comfort rather than giving it and he clung tight, no words exchanged between them but his shoulders shook with silent sobs and Louis’ heart broke. He gently patted Harry’s hair, sweeping it off his hot forehead, smoothing it down as he murmured reassurances and platitudes and meaningless nothings because he had to stop this _hurting_ , he had to take away some of this boys pain because he was too good and too sweet and too innocent to be feeling what Louis himself was feeling and Louis had to take it off him. His voice cracked as he bent his head close over the younger boy’s, his lips brushing curls and ear as he kept up a stream of comforting words, his arms around the shaking boy and tears leaking into his hair as he felt keenly the same pain and loss Harry was feeling.

_You're amazing, Harry, you're wonderful and your voice is stunning and you're beautiful and you need to keep your chin up and I need you to smile okay, I need to see that gorgeous smile because I know you can do it, I know you can smile for me and I know you can keep singing because your voice is a gift you can’t keep hidden and it’s amazing. You're amazing._

And the words spilled out of him with the tears and he kept stroking Harry’s hair and slowly, slowly the shaking slowed and the tears subsided and Harry raised his head from the damp patch on Louis’ shoulder and his sobs turned into the embarrassed half chuckles of someone who feels they’ve revealed too much, said too much and shown too much of themselves. Louis refused to let him move his body away, keeping his arms around him and half laughing with him. Harry had apologised, his raspy voice cracking and deeper with the tears and Louis had shushed him, using one of his own sleeves to wipe both his cheeks and Harry's and then he had apologised to him, deeply and sincerely, expressing his regret that Harry hadn’t gotten through. Harry's lips wavered even as he pulled them into a wry smile, with a “ _what can you do”_ half lift of his shoulder and the resignation and pain in his eyes bit into Louis’ chest. He pulled a hand up to Harry's face unconsciously wanting to smooth away the lines of pain on his face, the tear tracks still visible and then they seemed to freeze, both aware of the lack of distance between their bodies, Louis’ arm still around Harry's back and Harry's around Louis and Louis’ hand cupping Harry’s cheek and the moment stretched, hovering, fragile. Eyes locked and confusion warring with a hunger, an innocent want in Harry's shining eyes, shining with a natural fire and a sheen of tears and the air seemed electric, fizzing around them, alive somehow and then the moment stretched too far and shattered, fragments spilling from them as they split apart, Harry’s eyes averted and somehow he seemed smaller than Louis, despite being taller. The silence was strained now, neither sure how to break it. And then Harry looked up at him, a lopsided, cheeky grin on his face, a dimple appearing, somehow making him look even more angelic, his eyes sparkling even with the traces of bitter disappointment and Louis’ heart flipped over in his chest and he knew right there that he was in serious trouble.

**~**

 

They had been called back from the room full of bitterness and tears and rejected comrades. The brisk, official list of names read by a detached woman filled Louis’ chest with a burning hope, a desire so intense he didn’t want to even dare to believe it, didn’t want to verbalise the words even in his head and then when Harry's name was also on this list he was on his feet, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him up with him, wanting to spin him around and dance crazily but he restrained himself, picking up their stuff and walking towards the exit, their movements followed with a horrible jealousy in the eyes of those left behind and his breathes were short, barely daring to hope, and the walk with the lot of them was silent save for Louis whispering madly to Harry when the feeling in his chest became constricting and needed to erupt out of him and he'd turned to him and whispered, barely forming the words.

 “D’you think-?!”

The wild hope was maddening, terrifying, and they didn’t want to get ahead of themselves, didn’t want to think that something could be happening that would be all they wanted and no one answered him but a brief glance from Harry and he saw the same mad, wild passion in Harry's eyes that he was sure were lighting up his own, the effect sure to be less impressive in his blue eyes than in Harry's green, lightening crackling in them with the force of his hope. Harry hadn’t released his hand and both of their knuckles were white with how hard they were clenching them together. They were shunted back onto that same stage that had been so full of hope and dreams and fun and a single, shining moment of stardom and that stage that had become the death of budding careers and rejection and failure and now the stage was back to hope, lights gleaming on the shiny surface in a parody of lights on a rainy road and the judges were solemn in front of them. They were told to shift so he and Harry were standing next to some kid with Beiber-ish hair and that Irish one he'd said hi to a few times and Zayn, the one who didn’t want to dance and then gritted his teeth and did it through the fear and shame. They were told they were simply too talented to let go and the grins were building on their faces now, no one daring to breathe or move and then they'd been told they were _through_ , in a group with the lads they were standing with and it was a split second before it sunk in but then it _did_ and they'd made it to judges houses together. He was lifted by joy and ridiculous happiness and Harry's arms and he'd jumped around Harry's waist, legs and arms around him, the two of them blending into a single entity, moulding into one and the yells of joy and elation echoed through the auditorium.

It was mindless, instinct, natural for him to jump into Harry's arms, surrounding him with his body and congratulations and happiness and the feelings that had been spinning around them during the intense moment they had before that neither had acknowledged because it was insane, mental, crazy and so he didn’t think, he jumped, trusting Harry to catch him and hold him and he did and they spun, the feelings filling them making them weightless, spinning out of control but in his arms, safe and held and grounded and Harry was glowing, both of them were glowing, lighting the room with joy and sunshine and _god_ , Harry's face beneath him, flushed with exertion and happiness, a boy on the cusp of manhood was the most beautiful thing Louis had ever seen. Harry's hand were warm and huge on him and then their eyes caught, the auditorium whirling around them, the whoops and screams of the others fading into the background and Louis’ eyes slipped to Harry’s plump, red lips and the tip of a pink tongue darted out to moisten them and Louis was sure that if he didn’t kiss him he would explode and the feeling was frightening and exciting and wonderful all at once but then the moment was shattered, broken, stolen by the other lads, Zayn and the guy that had gotten this far last time alone and the Irish one and they jumped on them too, and the joy and glow was contagious and it was the five of them, alone in the world, illuminated and shining and on top of a mountain, on top of the world.

**~**

The euphoria took a long time to wear off. Giddy, reckless, the five of them were walking on clouds, walking on the sun, flying. They got sent to Harry’s bungalow with the other lads and it was a dream how well they got along, how great they were together, five oddballs, five rejects that weren’t enough alone and they shouldn’t have worked but they _did_ , and it was amazing and they were flying, untouchable. They talked, and shared everything, knowing each other down to the soul within a week, comfortable beyond all reason and logic with each other. They stayed up until four talking and laughing and slept in late, waking up the latest ones, usually Zayn and Harry with stupid songs or dips in the pool or jumping on the bed. They shared secrets and desires and fears and the best moments of their lives and the worst moments of their lives, their nightmares and the dreams they'd never dared to vocalise. The deepest secrets and their fetishes, their weird cravings for weird food and their habits. Nothing was taboo, nothing was too much or too deep or too secret, nothing was too weird or too strange or too offensive. They mixed vodka and caffeine and they danced without reservation and they cried and shared fears and they laughed and shared stories and when Liam had too much one night and threw up they were all there with him, wiping his face and bringing him water and just generally being girls, though not without a bit of good natured ribbing, especially from the Irishman of course. And when their friends and brothers had gone to their respective rooms or couches Harry and Louis would stay together, and they talked, later at night and during the afternoon and once even in the shower when Louis nearly jumped out of his skin when Harry started talking to him through the curtain and they were more candid, more comfortable with each other than they'd ever been with anyone in their lives. They'd wake up curled around the other and no one mentioned it or found it odd because it was sweet, the way Harry had taken Louis under his wing and vice versa and the others would exchange knowing looks long before Louis or Harry understood or acknowledges the fire in their veins when they spoke of the other.

They seemed to be an extension of the other, thunder and lightning together, dancing around the other, connected and electric and wild and it was a seamless insertion into the others’ lives until no one was quite sure how they'd lived without the others and then it was the end of their allotted two weeks and they had to split up, go home for a bit and then fly to Spain for the judges houses and it seemed as though the past two weeks had been heaven and a dream and a miracle and it was too soon for them to split up. Louis felt as if he was standing on the edge of a precipice while a storm raged overhead, looking in on something much, much bigger than himself. Like gazing at the gates of heaven, something too wondrous and too big and too much for his eyes to comprehend. And he was afraid of the storm and yet mesmerised, seized by a wild, mad desire to fling himself over the edge of the ravine and be lost in the storm. The raw power made him feel small, insignificant and yet like he was the only person in the world. His breath caught at the hugeness of the feeling. His body was surely too fragile, his chest was surely going to shatter from the intense pressure of the feeling building up inside him. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to jump, to lean forward and open his arms and soar, to lose himself in the clouds and the storm and damn the consequences, but his head kept him where he was, screaming warnings and _danger_ and _don’t_ but the great chasm beneath him sung with thunder and lightning and beauty and Harry was there in the storm, always there, Harry _was_ the storm and Louis stepped forward and leapt.

**~**

Before, Louis had been slow to give his heart. He loved fully and wholly and more completely than he hated, he loved with his entire being and wore his heart on his sleeve, the little boy who cried when his mother explained to him he couldn’t save that bird or that Sparky the cat was never coming back and maybe it was a product of being sheltered his whole life but he was always hesitant to give himself so fully to someone else, another real, living, breathing human. He was naïve enough to believe that love, passionate, relationship, _marriage_ love was once and once only and if you chose wrong then you’d never get your heart back and so he'd hung onto his heart, throwing his energy and his passion into everything but keeping his heart to himself. He'd been afraid to get too close, hesitant to fall, afraid to get burnt. But not this time. Not afraid to get burnt, even as lightening flashed in Harry's eyes and in his soul, not afraid of the fire in his own heart that burned so brightly and so intensely as he surrendered himself and his being and his entire heart to the younger boy who now had the power to make all his worst fears reality without even knowing.

Except maybe he did know, maybe the softening of Harry's eyes when he looked at Louis wasn’t just in his imagination, and maybe Harry really _did_ spend more time with Louis and next to Louis and on Louis than anyone else and maybe, just maybe Harry felt the same. They'd discussed everything but themselves and this, whatever this was in the long talks at the bungalow but they'd danced around the subject and no labels had been used, none of those horrible words that shoved someone into a box with black writing, stealing their name and identity and renaming them ‘homosexual’ or ‘bisexual’, none of those, but they both knew that they had feelings for boys, for men, and for Louis, just one. No other girls, no other boys and though he refused to name the one person he had feelings for, he tried to convey what he wasn’t brave enough to say with his words with his eyes, staring deep into Harry’s eyes with all the intense fire he could muster and he was sure Harry knew who he meant.

And now, now he'd stopped fighting it, fallen completely and horribly and fully in love, and that was a huge, terrifying word and yet he knew he meant every four letters of it, he'd never loved like this before, not so intensely and passionately and sexually because he wanted Harry, wanted all of him, his body and his soul and his heart and it was terrifying, mad, exhilarating and he felt as though he was truly riding the storm, buffeted by winds and sailing through clouds and he was scared out of his mind. Harry was all around him, in the clouds and the lightening and the wind whipping in his hair, the solid ground far beneath and the fat raindrops that felt like electric shocks as they touched Louis’ skin, he was the feeling in Louis’ stomach and the moisture in the air and he was all around him, surrounding him and Louis was breathing it in, breathing him in and he drank in the feeling as he let himself go and lost himself in the sensations and surrendered himself to the fall.

**~**

They didn’t crash back down to reality, the five of them, not even when they had met up in Spain, hot and wild and so different to home, not even when they were practising for the most important two minutes of their lives, even more important than the auditions because each had four others depending on him now, each had so much more to lose than a dream and a song, each had found four other boys that connected with him on some base, deep level and their souls and their lives were completely, irrevocably intertwined and they all felt the pressure all the more keenly. They didn’t crash back down, not even when Louis was stung on the beach; there was worry, of course, and fear when he took longer than they thought and anger when no one was allowed to go with him but then when he got back, limping towards them they ran to him, Harry crashing into him first and then the others and the euphoria was back and they stayed touching in a huddle for as long as they could, reassuring each other they were there. Even when the nerves set in, the undercurrent was still joy, still bubbling with happiness. They had two minutes to show Simon he hadn’t made a mistake and the boys had become closer than brothers to Louis, closer than any friends he’d ever had before and it literally made his heart ache to even entertain the thought of leaving them or this competition and leaving Harry, always Harry. Not now.

And this just meant he had so much more to fight for, so much more reason to sing out his soul and they practised and sang and harmonised and practised and they knew they sounded good but was it good enough? Were they good enough? And they didn’t know the answer and they didn’t know what Simon was looking for but they _knew_ they could _sing_ and so when it was time they went out in the sunshine and the warm and they _sang_ and Harry's voice broke his heart and his eyes were full of music and the pain of the song and the words and _torn._ The lightening was flashing and bright because Harry was pouring everything into it and that was all they could do and when Simon said _yes_ they crashed together, all solid bodies and limbs and elbows but it wasn’t awkward or painful it was completion and harmony and perfection and joy and there was no way Louis was letting anyone take this feeling away.

It was them against the world, it really was because no one outside the five of them could understand what it was like, really like to stand up and fight a war armed with a song and a microphone, to strip naked and bare their souls and their hearts and every little bit of them that mattered to complete strangers because they had to let the music out. Each of them had found four soul mates, soldiers and comrades and brothers and friends and for Louis at least, the competition ceased to matter because nothing was going to split them, he could _feel_ it, he knew it, nothing could separate them now and they would always be together, always a part of each other’s lives somehow. A few short weeks knowing them, and yet he knew, just as he knew in a bathroom with a stranger with green eyes so long ago that something had irrevocably changed in his life and his world and there was no way not being with these boys was an option.

Harry, Harry, the gorgeous boy that was still like a young buck nearly grown into his legs but still occasionally stumbling and his legs slightly too long for his body, his eyes wide and innocent and full of laughter and lightening, the pure energy in his eyes that crackled and sizzled, the sun and the stars and he emitted radiance and he knew Harry could feel the weight of adoration in his gaze, and instead of being scared that he was so open and vulnerable he was peaceful, secure in the knowledge that he loved Harry and nothing could hurt him unless it hurt Harry. And so he was only slightly surprised and even less anxious when the boys split up for lunch an hour after receiving that blessed _yes_ and Harry followed him towards the best ice cream place in the world that all of them had discovered they loved and directed him into a small side street before they got there, the road stretching up a hill, turning into a dirt road part way up, looking more suited for horses than people or cars. Harry gently shoved him until his back was against the cool white stone of the building behind him soothing against the Spanish sun.

Louis knew this was it, this was the moment, the climax of the past weeks of silent feelings and deep talks and sexual tension and wanking over the young boy with the green eyes and Harry stepped closer, his head bending towards Louis as if testing the waters and his heady scent swirled around Louis and his curls brushed Louis forehead. There was no space between them , chest to chest, and Harry's pink tongue dipped out to wetten his lips and his eyes were more intense than Louis had ever seen them, burning into Louis, wildfire and entire solar systems and raw energy surging in the green depths, holding Louis’ gaze with a concentration and ultimate finality. The silence stretched on, neither breaking gaze or moving, breaths shallow and quiet, and a conversation too big and too deep and too important to be said with words as lightening met ocean and then just as Louis grew desperate, the searching in Harry's gaze igniting a burning curiosity in Louis, the waiting and suspense surely going to drive him mad, Harry's eyes hardened and resolved and then he was swooping in, closing the last of the distance between them as their lips touched for the first time.

It started chaste and innocent, a light pressure, a light touch of lips and a tantalising taste of perfection and heaven and then it deepened with a gasp that neither was sure who made, small shocks lighting Louis on fire where Harry touched him and he buried his fingers in Harry's hair, fingers clenching in ecstasy and _everything_ and _finally_ and he lifted his legs around Harry's waist in a parody of what they'd done just weeks ago when they'd been put into a group and Harry intensified the kiss even more, stepping impossibly closer and bracing Louis against the wall with a hand under his ass, huge and warm and another against the cool, white wall and the kiss was intense and desperate, Louis was overheating, Louis was on fire, and he needed more, needed _more_ , needed _everything_ and Harry _was_ everything, surrounding him, covering him and then thunder split the silence and the heavens opened and the rain poured down and it was a scene from every bad movie that Louis would never admit to secretly liking and they were offered no shelter from the rain against the wall but that didn’t matter in the slightest. The kiss hadn’t been broken, if anything it was _more_ , always more, each feeding the desire and the burn of the other and the water dripped into their eyes and wet their hair and trickled into their mouths, drenching them to the skin in seconds as they kissed needily, hungrily, and Louis couldn’t have cared less that it was a downpour because where there was thunder there was lightening and the lightening was here, with him, all around him and the sparks that had started small were increasing and his blood was on fire, the sparks setting him alight and the familiar low heat boiled in the pit of his stomach. For minutes, hours, days they kissed desperately, dripping wet and gasping before Harry pulled back and leant his forehead against Louis and breathlessly laughed.

They brushed wet hair out of their eyes and they talked and they kissed and they agreed and they kissed and they ran out into the main street, hands shamelessly and proudly and euphorically linked and they had the best ice cream of their lives in the middle of a rainstorm, laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it and jumping in puddles and running and chasing and for those precious moments, wetter than he'd ever been in his life, drenched to the bone, with a soggy ice cream in one hand and the boy he felt certain was _everything_ but for now was his _boyfriend_ in the other, Louis was complete.

**~**

Days passed in a haze, a whirlwind, hours running into hours, the night blending into day and it was time to leave and none of them even entertained the thought of splitting, going home to their families and pretending like they were ultimately, utterly changed. They were fused, each another limb of the other and maybe it was sick, crazy for them to be so close and so dependent on each other and maybe it did mean that the other contestants and Simon gave them strange looks but they really couldn’t care less, still floating on clouds and success and happiness. When they were on the edge of having to leave, the two weeks before having to be at the X Factor house stretching in front of them like a terrifying, dark, lonely abyss, they all hugged a little too tight, clung a little too long and had eyes a little too weepy, especially Niall, bless him, and it didn’t seem fair that the blonde one, by far the most attached to everyone, the most afraid of being alone was having to be separated not by a matter of miles but by a border as well.

The night before their flight left, Harry and Louis snuck away, leaving Liam and Zayn and Niall to cover for them and outside, hiding behind one of the fountains in Simons sprawling grounds they flew to heaven and back. The lightening was electrocuting Louis and making him feel more alive than he’d ever been, and Harry, young and hardly naïve but innocent, no more a virgin than Louis, but still innocent and especially so like this, with feelings involved and with another man and they learned as they went, Harry using his huge hands and his lips and Louis was in raptures and the world was shaking and surely it was going to fall apart, the world was going to shatter into tiny pieces and he couldn’t hold it together any longer and so he let go, let the world fall and he floated back down to ground that had reformed itself and was as solid as anything he'd ever touched. Then he touched, hesitant but sure, and everything was new, touching someone so like himself but so different at the same time and he guided Harry above the clouds and watched him fall apart, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's face as he closed his eyes and all his defences fell away, open and honest and raw and looking so angelic and perfect that it made Louis’ stomach hurt, and he leaned in and kissed the boy with a gentleness that calmed their earlier passion. Harry closed his eyes into the kiss, returning it with just as much fervour, all feelings and not as much lust. It was gentle, it didn’t escalate and how long they lay, half hidden behind a fountain in the pleasant Spanish air, exchanging loving kisses Louis didn’t know. His eyelids were drooping and he wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, this instant with Harry forever, to have Harry's warmth and large arms and body wrapped around him, holding him together and holding him safe and Louis _wanted_ it, wanted it with such a furiousness and intensity that it nearly scared him but he clenched his eyes firmly against the idyllic vision and reached over to Harry to shake the boy awake, Louis’ head resting on his sleeping chest. Harry awoke lazily, blinking and grinning and then they ran, laughing as they ducked and dove towards the building, and they made it in, breathless, Louis doing a dive roll through the door way and Harry collapsing in giggles and it was perfect, the levity of the moment fading into poignancy as Louis brought his hand to cup Harry's angelic face, thumb stroking that dimple and their eyes meeting as Harry stepped forward, bringing their bodies close as they said goodbye in silence.

**~**

  
  
Louis thought that being with Harry, being _with_ him would abate the desire some, diminish the lust but it didn’t, it hadn’t, and the small, tantalising taste he'd had of Harry the night before they'd left Spain was playing on his mind, settling in a blinding haze over his eyes and he was unable to think about anything else and the past three days at home had been torture. He felt alone, even surrounded by family, missing the constant presence of the other four boys he'd come to love so much in the past few weeks, missing the constant elbow in the side or the legs thrown over his waist or an arm flung over his shoulder. He missed the scent of the others, always together, melding into one scent but still distinguishable as each boy, Zayn's cologne deep and woodsy and Liam’s, lighter but spicy and Niall's, fresh and clean and Harry, Harry's unique scent that was soap and his skin and his hair and his cologne that he hardly ever used but that clung to his clothes and hung around him and it was an intoxicating combination and Louis missed it more than he could express.

Their voices, a constant, either singing or yelling or talking and laughing in his ear, Zayn’s Bradford drawl and Liam’s schoolboy posh and Niall's Irish lilt and Harry's slow Cheshire baritone and their voices wove together, creating music even just talking and the voices had been around him for so much, for so long that Louis felt like the house was too quiet, too abandoned even as his sisters tore through the landing shrieking. Even wearing all of his own clothes felt strange to him. For so long, since the bungalow and at Simon’s house they had worn each other’s, crazy combinations of whatever was on the floor or in a suitcase close to them and if it resembled something like fitting you were entitled to wear it and Louis had nothing but a t-shirt of Nialls and a pair of socks of Liam’s and somehow a pair of Zayn’s boxers and a hoody of Harry's and he felt pathetic but he wore them around the house, mooching around, moody and sulking, stupid as it was. He felt a little less alone, a little less abandoned with their scents surrounding him, cloths that had once touched them touching him and he could feel their phantom fingers on him and the pain in his chest lessened.

**~**

  
  
His mother was worried about him, she had the _‘I am your mother and I know something is wrong’_ look on her face, and although he really didn’t want to have this conversation he sighed and didn’t attempt to leave when Jay strode towards him, face set in determination. She hadn’t attacked him, as he’d half expected, her usual bulldog tactics when trying to get information out of her admittedly stubborn son traded for something gentler, more worried, but more understanding as she told him that she knew he was in love and she wouldn’t allow him to protest before she continued with:  
“and I don’t know if it’s a person, one of those boys, or all of those boys, or the idea of making it in this competition. Maybe you're in love with the idea of making it big or maybe you're just in love with the idea of having four brothers, the brothers I never gave you or maybe it’s nothing like that and maybe you're just sad, maybe you're sad about leaving these boys or sad about leaving Spain or sad about coming back here to boring old Doncaster and your boring old family after you’ve had a taste of something bigger than this but I want you to promise me something, darling.”

This time she waited for his nod and when he assented she made him promise that he would take care of himself, take care of the boys that he obviously loved and so were as good as sons to her and made him promise that no matter what happened, whether they made it right through and won or whether they got knocked out the next week, that he would never forget Doncaster, never forget his sisters and never forget his dear old mum, and she was dabbing at tears in her eyes and he was getting choked up too because she’d hit the nail on the head, with nearly all of the points actually and he had no problem hugging his mother tightly and promising, deeply, genuinely, heartfelt-ly that he _promised_ because he did. He really had no intention of forgetting where he came from, no matter what happened.  And then laughing at her own weepiness, she gently hit him on the back of the head and told him to get dressed and to take the car and to go visit the closest one and he stared at her in shock, the idea of _driving_ to see the others hadn’t even occurred to him and he had no idea why, they'd been so agonised over the prospect of separation for so long and he stood gaping until she laughed again, swatting him on the backside until he moved, his face lighting up and a cheeky salute snapped at his mum with a ‘yes, ma’am!’ and then he was bounding up the stairs, taking them two at a time and throwing stuff haphazardly into a bag, hauling it behind him and dashing out the door.

The car door was wrenched open and the cold interior of the car didn’t stop him as he threw it into gear and screamed out of the driveway, barely remembering to toot as his mum, illuminated in the doorway, shaking her head in indulgent disbelief. A blur of an hour and a half later, Louis was in Cheshire, his eyes scanning the road signs for the one he knew led to the house and the bungalow and he knew it was late, maybe after ten or even eleven and he didn’t care, exclaiming triumphantly when he found it and running up to the door, car running and door open behind him.

He knocked urgently, breathless, excited and when Harry opened the door and stood in shock Louis didn’t waste any time, grabbing the front of Harry's hoody and pulling him in, their lips blessedly meeting and the same sparks erupted behind Louis’ eyelids and Harry moaned, almost shocked out of his shock and he melted into the kiss, stepping forward off the porch and lifting Louis up until Louis’ legs were wrapped around his waist and Louis’ hands were in his curls and they were the same person, the same being and neither knew where one ended and the other began and the pleasure was _everything_ and _overwhelming_ and he pulled away, breathless and panting. Harry's eyes shone at him as he gasped and grinned and wryly spoke,  
“Well hello to you too.” And Louis laughed again, exhilaration and longing and missing making the reunion sweeter and they may as well have been separated for months rather than only nearly four days and ducked in to kiss his boyfriend again and the sound of a throat being cleared rent the moment like a gunshot, a sower of cold water dousing Louis in an instant, the pleasant warm haze of being with Harry again and kissing him again and feeling him again and it was gone, shattered, leaving behind cold sweat and the horrifyingly inappropriate remains of an erection in front of Anne in the doorway.

He was instantly, appallingly, completely aware of the fact he was wrapped around her son, lips red and swollen and leaving no doubt as to what they'd been up to, clad only in socks, boxers and an oversized hoody belonging to the boy he was attached to. Jumping off Harry as though scalded, Harry seemingly frozen in place, Anne stood in the doorway, light spilling out from the rooms inside with he hands on her hips and her lips pursed disapprovingly. Louis felt a sinking feeling in his chest, and just as surely as he knew the world was round and the sky was up and Harry's eyes were green, he was sure that this, that them not being accepted by Harry's family would crush the boy, who, like himself had no shame in admitting himself a mummy’s boy. And so desperately, before she could speak, Louis clenched Harry's hand for support and faced Anne, trying to position himself so the slight remaining evidence of _exactly_ how excited he was to see Harry wasn’t too obvious, he beseeched her with his best puppy dog eyes, and out of his mouth spilled words that he couldn’t control but that were begging and pleading and angry for acceptance and for acknowledgement of her son. He raged, pouring the emotion he felt during their kiss, the disappointment and anger at the interruption and the imminent pain of Harry’s into his speech and it was only after he had yelled that he was _with her son and there was nothing she could do about it_ that he trailed off in confusion because Anne was smiling, not scowling and Harry was frozen in plain mortification, not dead fear and now his shoulders were shaking in mirth.

Louis wanted Harry’s driveway to open him up and swallow him whole, and he'd never felt so small in his life, panting, overshadowed by Harry’s natural height and Anne on the step and he felt like a small child again, and he could feel his face blushing crimson because somehow he'd misunderstood the entire situation and he and Harry were in no more danger of being unwelcomed than he was of finding out he was the queen. He thanked god that neither of them said anything as Anne gestured them inside, her eyes sparkling with mirth and her dimples, the ones Harry had inherited making an appearance; the only indicators she was as amused as her son and he defiantly squared his shoulders and strode into the house, tossing his head and pretending he couldn’t hear the two of them laughing. He half waved an awkward hello to Harry's step-dad, again painfully aware he was wearing an assortment of borrowed items and nothing that could be passed as trousers. Harry and his mum walked in from the driveway, Harry obviously having had turned off the car and picked up his bag, and his mum linking arms with her son as they shut the door.

 He averted his eyes, embarrassment filling his cheeks but even he could see the funny side and so when Harry pranced over, being a smart ass and pretending to swoon, landing in Louis’ arms and dramatically sighing “my hero,” Louis lost it and his laughter broke the spell and the three of them dissolved into laughter, Harry’s step-dad rolling his eyes and turning his eyes back to the telly.  
“I do think its sweet though, love.” Anne reassured Louis, maternally brushing his hair as she padded past, after kissing her husband and son goodnight on the foreheads, kissing Louis too.

“I’m glad you’ll stick up for him and you. You’re going to need to, I’m afraid. You can stay as long as you like, love, provided you don’t corrupt my baby boy. _Too much._ ” She added with a wink and a grin and Harry stood rooted to the spot in mortification and Louis thought that turnabout was fair play and so after a round of thanks you's and goodnights, Louis allowed Harry to pull him by the hand towards his room. Louis had been in here before, but only briefly as harry had rummaged for something while they stayed at the bungalow and it was as though his room was a window into his soul, filled with the things he loved, music and idols and posters covering the walls, clothes littering the floor in typical teenage fashion and the blankets on the double bed in the centre of the room mussed up and in a pile and it was perfect and it felt like home.

**~**

  
It was heaven and it was hell because he was so close to Harry, Harry was right there and they were in the same bed, bare legs intertwined and naked chests touching and Louis head was resting on Harry's chest, rising and falling gently and softly. It was perfection, fingers linked and connected hands resting next to Louis’ face and every so often he could move the slightest bit and press a kiss to the back of Harry's hand and it was a moment he wanted to last forever, sleepy and relaxed and perfect. Everything was okay in Louis’ world, he was with this boy and he never wanted to leave, never wanted to move, Harry's other arm warm and solid around him, resting on his shoulder and Louis was surrounded and completely at peace. At the same time it was hell because he was with _Harry_ and they were naked and in a bed and he was a teenage boy, what was he _supposed_ to think and his body was doing the thinking for him and yet they couldn’t do anything with his family in the house and it was the line between pleasure and pain, between peace and war, between completion and want.

It was hell because he felt the emotions in him, the emotions that he’d felt and accepted since long before he and Harry had kissed and he felt _love_ and the word was just as terrifying and huge now but it still filled him with a calm, a peace and in this moment, this perfect, relaxed moment, intertwined on Harry's bed the desire to _tell_ Harry burned through him, ripped through his veins with a passion and fire and _want_ that scared him and he knew Harry knew, knew Harry felt the weight of the word in conversations they never quite finished, and yet Louis couldn’t say the words.

Maybe it was some misguided fear, a base, primal instinct that held him back, the fear of rejection, or the fear of putting yourself so out there, laying everything so _bare_ in a way that even singing couldn’t compare to that scared him, too scared to be so naked. Maybe it was because Louis knew this was crazy, it was too soon and he shouldn’t be feeling this, within weeks of knowing each other they shouldn’t be this close, feeling these things because it was _insane_ , it was _mental_ and yet Louis had always trusted his instincts and what he felt more than what people told him and so maybe he could do it. Maybe. Except not right here, not right now, and as he felt Harry drift off to sleep beneath his cheek, he filed the moment away as one of the most perfect of his life, gentle kisses exchanged in Harry’s bed, naked and warm and trusting and tangled together, legs and arms and fingers and Harry's heartbeat beneath his ear and he thought that maybe this was enough for now.

**~**

  
  
The next morning Louis woke up first, and they were still knotted together and still touching as much skin as possible and Harry's heartbeat was still steady and wonderful under Louis’ ear and the sun wasn’t shining but that was okay because Harry lit up any room anyway. Louis wasn’t ready to wake up and so he blinked and burrowed down further into Harry's chest because it was warm and perfect and surprisingly soft and comfortable and he pressed a kiss to one of Harry's extra nipples as he did, lips barely ghosting over the birthmark and he left his eyes closed and his heart open as the warmth of Harry and the morning washed over him and lulled him back into sleep.

The next thing he knew was the click of a camera and he frowned, confused before his eyes snapped open and he saw Anne in the doorway, camera in hand and she smiled apologetically for waking him up but she hadn’t been able to resist taking a picture of the two of them and breakfast was on the table and then she was gone, and Louis could see exactly where Harry inherited his sunshine from but also had the feeling the lightening had come from this woman too, a dangerous woman to cross and Louis never wanted to be on her bad side. He woke Harry up with kisses and feather light touches and snippets of songs and as Harry was gently coaxed into awareness, looking for all the world like a sleepy kitten, Louis watched and adored and _loved_ and then Harry was awake and so was another part of him and it was like a switch had been flipped and Harry was still sweet and adorable and as cute as a kitten but there was passion in his eyes, passion and _desire_. Louis kept up the feathery touches and the gentle caressing and the brushing of lips on skin as he moved down Harry’s body and there he paused and his touched were so light anymore, his lips not so gentle and Harry was gorgeous above him, radiant and stunning, hair mussed from sleep and eyes still blurry and he made no noise except for a small groan as his hips jerked up and then he was gone and flying and eyes clenched in ecstasy and then he was coming down from the high and his eyes were open and awake and he proceeded to show Louis just how much he appreciated the wake up.

**~**

  
  
Half an hour later, slightly red in the face the boys were eating breakfast, the house empty save for themselves and a note telling them Anne and her husband had _gone to the shops and they'd be back later and also there’d been a call from the X Factor producers and on Friday Harry needed to be ready because the cameras were coming to his house to film the goodbyes that would be shown in their introduction at the live shows_. Louis realised he couldn’t be there and he had no idea when the cameras were coming to his house and so he probably needed to call his mum. Using the kitchen phone, Harry's arms distractingly around his waist as his lips rained wet kisses on Louis neck, he held a stilted conversation with his mum and he could almost _hear_ the knowing grin in her voice at his unsteady breaths and she told him the cameras would be at theirs on Sunday. Hanging up the phone, Louis relaxed into the embrace of Harry, melting into him and laying his head back on Harry's shoulder, giving him more access to his throat.

Louis was floating and falling and standing and kneeling because Harry and Harry's mouth and his hand slipping under the waistband of his sweats and then the front door opened and Harry snatched his hand away and flew to the other side of the kitchen because accepted or not, having your mother walk in on you is not a good time and Louis was left to straighten his hair and his pants and get his breathing and erection under control and Harry was fucking smirking at him from across the room looking completely put together and eating toast. The rest of the day passed much the same, hanging out in Harry's room or the lounge, sneaking kisses when they could and touches when they couldn’t, Louis actually sitting on Harry's lap on the couch and no one batting an eyelid and Louis realised that more than the dimples and the sunshine and the lightening, Harry had gotten his amazing capacity to love and not judge from this family and he felt amazed to be a part of it, however small because to be in a room with such unconditional acceptance, acting -not even acting, _believing_ that nothing was wrong with the two boys that had jumped into this, head first, right into the deep end and with no swimmers on, just each other and what they felt to keep them afloat. They didn’t ask questions or pry or make them uncomfortable aside from the good-natured teasing, the gentle ribbing of Anne’s, and the Styles family was quickly rising on his list of good people in the world.

  
Louis had planned to leave that night; it was already Thursday and the crews would be at Harry's tomorrow and Louis couldn’t be there but Harry and his mum had ganged up on him to stay and he couldn’t argue with one set of dimples and green eyes, let alone two and so he gave in with easy grace, allowing himself to be convinced and flicking a text to his mum and ending up in Harry's bed again, twined around each other with linked fingers and twisted legs and naked skin and naked heartbeats. Harry reflected Louis’ thoughts out loud by musing that the two of them should go away somewhere , someday, just the two of them with no one they knew around, strangers in a pile of others, un-extraordinary and they could be like this all the time. Louis wanted it, _god_ he wanted it and so he pulled their joined hands to his mouth and he kissed Harry's knuckles and whispered that he _promised_ against them and they fell asleep, raindrops on the roof and promises in the air and their heartbeats in time.

**~**

  
He hadn't gone to see anyone else in the remaining week before they would meet up at x factor houses. Talking to them through text and through Facebook just wasn’t the same, he couldn’t hear their voices or see their stupid grins or touch them and it almost made the distance seem worse but they all had cameras at their house or other relatives or friends and it couldn’t be explained away, a random visit from a friend that they'd barely met, no matter how close they'd become in such a short time taking precedence over something else. So they waited and they texted and they sighed a lot and Louis’ days dragged and his nights were full of Harry, always Harry, wishful thinking and lustful thinking and one night when he woke, startled out of his dream by the sudden appearance of the other boys, all just as naked as his boyfriend he passed it off as missing them and didn’t think about it again as he curled back under the covers and wished for Harry's warm weight around him.

It was an addiction, two nights spent with Harry and he knew he wanted to sleep next to him for the rest of forever and even now, nearly a week after his impromptu visit to see Harry he could feel the tremors in his veins, feel the aftermath of the lightening coursing through him and far from being unpleasant it was reassuring and comforting and reminded him that Harry was _real_ and not a dream and soon, soon they would be together again, with the others and they would _all_ be together again. The night before they were due to leave, his mum put together another dinner for him, inviting round friends and family and the house was full but Louis still felt alone, missing desperately the four boys that had become more to him than anyone here, and his mum could tell something was up and never was he more grateful for her over-protectiveness than when she started shooing people out at barely eight o clock, making quiet excuses like _needing rest_ and _big day tomorrow_ and then everyone was gone.

Jay pulled Louis to the couch and sat him down and had the same serious expression on her face as a week ago and this time she made him promise not to forget her and not to forget Doncaster but not to forget _himself_ and to not let himself get hurt and again before he could protest she cut him off with an explanation and she told him that it was a _competition_ and people got hurt and that she could see that he cared a damn lot about those boys and if they were anything like him none of them would hurt the others _intentionally_ but mistakes happen. She was so worried that Louis grabbed her hands and stared her in the eyes and told her that he would be fine, he would take care of himself and he wouldn’t let _anyone_ hurt him, and that he was dating Harry, whether or not they'd been on a ‘real date’ and her eyes welled up even as she crowed that she _knew it_ and she hugged him. She’d gone to bed muttering about how her baby was growing up and how she had to be introduced to Harry as the boyfriend, officially and she and Anne already had a good friendship and this was perfect and Louis blinked dimly at her disappearing back before heading to bed himself. The night was long, Louis couldn’t get comfortable, the bed was too big, too empty and his pillow was too soft and when he finally drifted off to sleep his dreams were uneasy, four pairs of eyes, two brown and a blue and _green_ staring at him, keeping watch, making him feel exposed and naked though not ashamed, not afraid, just watched.

**~**

  
  
They had met up outside the house, smashing together in an explosion of bodies and limbs and the _togetherness_ , the completeness he felt was astonishing and the dancing around in a huddle yelling their heads off was just as sincere as the locked eyes across the circle and the gentle touches of each other’s faces and the squeezing of arms. They stay connected, linked arms and touching sides and they made their way into the building where they'd be staying until this was over, until the competition became nothing but a memory and that was hopefully so far away that this house may as well have been their permanent home. They ran through yelling and laughing, surely annoying the other contestants as they found their room and yelled even more, throwing bags and suitcases on the floor and jumping on the five separate beds in the room, Louis unconsciously raising an eyebrow because that wasn’t going to do, and he made plans to push at least two of them together when he got the chance.

That afternoon they had nothing to do, it was the next morning when they got briefed and they met up with Simon in preparation for the live shows and so they lazed around, always touching, reassuring themselves that everyone was here, Niall lounging on his bed and playing a gentle soundtrack to accompany their nothing and Louis and Zayn ended up jumping on the beds, earning a disapproving look from Liam until they at least took off their shoes and they ended up shoving all five beds together into the largest bed in the centre of the room any of them had ever seen. By three they were laying across it, legs tangled with legs and heads on shoulders and arms thrown under shoulders or over chests and it was a closeness that Louis had only ever felt with Harry before and him and Harry exchanged looks over the head of Niall in between them, guitar abandoned for cuddles and Louis winked and blew a kiss at him, laughing internally as Harry's pupils blew out and then shuddering deliciously himself as Harry mouthed ‘ _later’_. They saw Liam watching them out of the corner of his eye, his head close to Zayn’s and he smiled at them, delight laughing in his eyes and a gentle happiness as he looked at them, marred only by the slightest hint of jealousy that Louis wasn’t sure if he'd seen or simply made up.

A knock on their door came a few hours later, minutes counted by laughter and quiet words and it was a miracle they hadn't run out of things to talk about, it was amazing and wondrous that the boys still managed to surprise him and make him laugh and draw out stories and it was family, more than family, it was _love_ and it surrounded them and they were his and he was theirs and the minutes slipped by and the call on their door was for dinner.

**~**

  
They slept in a tangle of blankets and limbs, a doggy pile in the centre of the huge, makeshift bed. Zayn complained the next morning, half of his body sunk in the gap between two beds, Niall moaning about the crick in his neck from his head lying on Liam's stomach and Louis and Harry just laughed at them because Harry was behind Louis, the two of them in the middle, Harry's lips resting on the back of Louis’ head and their fingers tangled together in front of Louis’ chest. Louis had had one leg thrown over Zayn, and Harry had apparently somehow slept on top of Liam's arm and Liam complained that he'd lost feeling but the discomfort was superficial and the sense of completeness and togetherness was more than anything he'd ever felt and his heart sung. Through the grumbles they'd all smiled at each other, genuine smiles from the inside out and Louis had never seen anything more beautiful and it went this way through the whole day, the whole week: secret smiles that meant more to them than the quarrels they were having with their voices, no matter what; an unbreakable bond.

Simon saw it too and shook his head disbelievingly as if he'd been handed a winning lotto ticket and they kept on smiling and kept on shining as they sung and they sung through one round and another, always going back to their room and sleeping as one, legs and arms tangled and Harry and Louis exchanging sweet kisses that only sometimes turned into more. The others no longer averted their eyes out of respect but watched them softly as they kissed and that was how Louis discovered Harry's kink for being watched and it was when he wondered if they were becoming too close, if they could watch Louis and Harry twining tongues filthily without even blushing. It was also when he realised he didn’t care, they could watch all they wanted, this expression of his feelings for Harry and they continued to pile on the same bed, impossibly getting closer as the competition ran on, somehow making it through each week, delirious and giddy and then they were getting fans, real fans and followers on twitter and were being called ‘the next big thing’. Instead of it going to everyone’s head, they kept each other grounded but the fans and the budding fame pushed them into a bubble, a bubble of the five of them that kept everyone separate, oddly distant and distorted and Louis felt bad when he realised he didn’t care but he _didn’t_ because he had these four boys and that was all he could ask for.

~  
  
Louis was more observant than people gave him credit for, mistaking his louder than life personality for someone who wasn’t aware of his surroundings but in truth he was always looking, always listening, always seeing the small give-aways on people’s faces that they didn’t consciously make and he could put two and two together. It was this skill that enabled him to see the wistful sighing that escaped Zayn's mouth when he looked at Liam, the slight bite of his lip in attraction and the flaring of his pupils in arousal when Liam stretched or flexed or tensed and Louis didn’t mention it but Zayn caught him looking and sent glares that slowly changed into pleading looks as the months wore on.

They practised harder than they'd ever done anything in their lives, throwing everything of themselves into every performance, astounding Simon with their work ethic and their sound and every time Simon shook his head in disbelieving joy, they trembled and shook and jumped with the feeling that maybe they could _actually_ do this and their follower count on twitter was slowly creeping up and they were featured on the news and their video diaries had thousands of views and it all seemed unreal. They didn’t focus on anything but themselves and their music and the outside world could have gone up in flames for all they knew or cared, they had each other and they had Niall’s guitar and they had music in their veins and in their hearts and in their voices and they bled together, Zayn strong and high, soaring above the others and turning the song into art, Liam loud and low, his voice turning words into honey, Niall clear and pure and his voice wavered with the others, filling an arena and lifting the others up when he harmonised, and Harry's, low and gravelly and getting deeper every day. It was still the smooth, melodic tone that Louis had heard that first day, lifetimes ago in the bathroom and his own, not as strong or as clear or as loud or as developed as the others but he contributed and his voice added another layer to theirs.

Harry tried to convince him that he had a gorgeous voice, but Louis couldn’t accept it, he wouldn’t and when Harry tried to tell him he had the voice of an angel he shook his head but Harry wouldn’t let it go and he'd sunk down to his knees and he'd sung Louis to an inch of his life, not with words but with his hot, wet mouth and his talented tongue and just as Louis was going to fall apart Harry had stopped and Louis had whimpered at the loss of contact and Harry refused to let Louis fall until he'd told himself that he had an amazing voice and just as Louis had done to Harry all that time ago to comfort a crying boy who hadn't made it through, Harry mumbled compliments and his wonder and how much he loved Louis’ voice, his face pressed into Louis’ thigh and it was only after Louis had panted and cried and started to _believe_ what Harry was saying that Harry took him back in and let him spiral down and float up and lose his head. 

**~**

  
Living in the same room as the boys made a mess, but it made the months fly by, months marked only by weekly performances and practises and the rest was a hazy blur of pleasant memories, late night conversations and pillow fights and crying, drunken friends and kissing Harry and the first time they sat in a circle with the empty bottle of Jack Daniels in the middle and they had spun it and they had kissed the other boys. Louis discovered that Liam's lips were firmer but more hesitant than Harry's, and Nialls were smoother and smaller and Zayn's were not as plump as Harry's but full and warm and wonderful and Louis thought the game had gone to his head more than the alcohol and another memory, the first time that he and Harry hadn't bothered to go to another room or at least attempt to be quiet when they got each other off, panting and kissing and gasping and the others hadn't looked but they had listened and when Zayn had gone to the bathroom after and Liam had coughed awkwardly and adjusted his pants and Niall just closed his eyes and slept with a smile Louis had nudged Harry with an elbow and they had laughed.

There was the time they'd had the picnic on their bed at 4.30 in the morning and Liam refused to sleep on it because of the crumbs, the time they had the mad dance party, crazed and rushed and breathless and fallen in a heap on the ground and there was the times when they would sit in a circle and sing, Louis’ thumb stoking the back of Harry's hand, secret smiles and eye contact being made around the five of them and the times when Zayn or Louis would steal someone’s clothes from the bathroom and collapse in laughter at the indignant yells from Liam and the cursing from Niall and the casual, naked stroll back from Harry. Somehow, by some miracle they kept getting through, each time half convinced it would be their last and then suddenly it was the finals and they were there with Matt and Rebecca and they were all tense muscles and clenched hands, linked behind backs and the brush of lips on heads, reassuring and comforting and then they hadn't won, they hadn't even come second but they'd made it to the finals and it was disappointing but Zayn wasn’t lying when he said this wasn’t the end of One Direction.

**~**

  
They'd all moved in together, falling into buying a house together without a second thought and at first they weren’t sure what to do, how to carry on with their lives but then they'd gotten a call from Simon and he wanted to sign them and if they'd thought his ‘ _yes’_ at judges houses was the best feeling in the world this had to top it by a thousand. They'd been excited but gracious until they’d gotten home, falling back onto each other and screaming and jumping, eyes alit with disbelief and wonder and joy and they couldn’t believe their luck and they didn’t have much notice before they were back into doing what they did best, messing around together and making music and this time it was in a studio and it was professional and it _meant_ stuff and it was an amazing feeling.

Louis slept in Harry's bed every night: their bed, because he hadn't slept in another since they'd moved in. it was addicting, sleeping next to Harry, his warmth and gentle breathing and steady heartbeat never failing to lull Louis to sleep even as it raised his pulse. The lads apparently had a pool on when they had, or would _actually_ sleep together, when they would stop dancing around and ‘ _just fuckin’ do it’_ as Niall said and as much as it amused him that their sex life was such a topic of conversation, Louis had to clench his teeth whenever the topic floated up because he would have loved to, he couldn’t imagine anything better. He and Harry had discussed it and he wanted nothing more than to be buried inside the younger boy, to watch him fall apart and fill him up but there had always been cameras around and people around and their rising stardom had meant they couldn’t risk scandal and so they contented themselves with quick blow jobs in the showers and cramped, rushed hand jobs in the back of cars and even in the bed at the X Factor house, with the others sleeping inches away. The way Harry came harder into his hand than ever before  knowing the boys could wake up at any instant and discover them should have bothered him more than it did, but it just pleased him to know another one of Harry's turn on's. He planned to utilise it as much as possible because he could feel it too, the excitement thrumming in his veins, the danger and exhilaration that they'd felt sneaking around in Spain and the idea of the boys catching them didn’t worry Louis because he knew them well enough to know nothing could ever make things awkward between them but it made it _hotter_ and risky and it was delicious, it throbbed in his veins.

Now they had their own room and relative privacy they had plenty of time and ample opportunity but the other boys could still walk in on them, or at the very least would know what they were up to and while that wasn’t a bad though, Louis wanted their first time to be about more than desire and danger and kink, he wanted it to be about them and no one else and so he planned and he plotted and then whisked Harry off to Leeds Festival.

**~**

  
Much like their first meeting, Louis had never imagined it to be like this. He had always envisioned his first time with someone he loved as much as he loved Harry would be on a bed somewhere at least, civilised and romantic. This was everything that his vision wasn’t, it was in a tent while the music thrummed through the ground beneath them, the base coming alive and throbbing in time with their heart beats and it wasn’t that vision but it was perfect for _them_ and Harry felt at home here and so did Louis, surrounded by strangers that became friends through the shared love of music and their tent was small and inconspicuous and perfect, _everything_ was perfect and it was cold but they had each other and their overheated skin to keep them warm. It was here, in this place where music was tangible, a touchable presence, here where they were no one but Harry and Louis, two teenagers in love, lost in the thousands; it was here for the first time that Louis looked deep into Harry's eyes, deep into his soul and his heart and his lightening and told him with every truth in his body that he loved him. Harry had kissed him and told him that he knew and that he loved Louis more than life and more than music and they became one, connected as physically as they were emotionally, wrapped around each other as Louis slowly pushed into lube-slicked warmth, eyes never leaving each other except for flutters of eyelids at the pleasure and the wholeness and it was _more_ than sex, it was _more_ than a festival and _more_ than three little words, it was _everything_ and the air was alive around them, music and love and electricity and Louis kept his movements slow and loving even as lightening crashed and the world spun and the ground shook. It was everything Louis had expected and everything he wanted and he kept rocking slowly until they came together, and he wept from the intensity of it.

Louis wiped tears off both of their cheeks and leant down to kiss Harry, expressing everything in the kiss that he would need a million words to say properly and they woke up closer than ever before, tangled limbs and twisted fingers and Louis had smiled as he slept and he laughed as they sang and danced at the festival and Harry was hypnotising, wondrous and Louis couldn’t figure out how this beautiful boy was his, couldn’t understand how he'd gotten so lucky, but he had. It was as though making love had flipped a switch in them, their lust for each other had always been huge and all-encompassing but now it was overpowering and rather than being tempered by their love it was exaggerated and it grew. They whispered and sang and shouted their love at each other through the day, the finally-broken barrier of not being able to say the words made Louis giddy and it spilled out of his mouth constantly. He kept smiling and laughing and grinning like a fool throughout the day, holding Harry's fingers loosely in his, pulling him around with the exuberance of a two year old and he bought them matching boots and Harry rolled his eyes and called him an idiot but kissed him and pulled them on and again and again they became one, connected completely and reaching the peak and higher, always higher and solidifying their love and this was so much more than a festival and they'd waited so long but it only made this sweeter.

**~**

  
Leaving the festival had been like leaving behind a shining dream, but the pangs in their chest of missing the other three had been too much and they couldn’t stay forever and so they packed up their things, floating on air and when they got home they were smothered in hugs and teasing and laughter because the others knew, of course they knew. They ate dinner and played a board game, the five of them and money was exchanged because apparently Liam won the pool and Louis and Harry had fallen asleep at the table and woke up in their bed.  
Life continued, as crazy and exciting as ever, their work on the album sounding amazing and their fan base growing and it was unbelievable and it was their life now. Days and weeks and months melted into each other, days passing with laughter and song and somehow this was their job, their life and none of them could comprehend it or believe their luck and they grew constantly closer, drawn together in the isolating bubble that kept everyone else out because they were always with each other and they were their own little group, a family and they didn’t need anyone else.

And then they'd released an album and gone on tour promoting it and it was hard work and long days and screaming girls and they were exhausted but their smiles were real and genuine and they were walking on clouds and then the album was exploding, their name plastered on buildings and newspapers and they were on a whirlwind tour and then there were plans for the continent and then America and then the world, Australia and New Zealand and they couldn’t believe it. They took it as it came, putting their all into every concert and pulling each other around when they were too tired and it was months on a tour bus and it was birthdays passing with just the five of them to celebrate and it was singing _heart_ and _soul_ and it was _crazy_ , madness and Louis was just glad he had Harry and Niall and Zayn and Liam to be experiencing this with. Louis and Harry had to grab whatever alone time they had, the other three unwilling to complain, not wanting to make them hide when they had to hide so much in the real world. Soon Harry and Louis didn’t bother summoning the energy to move to another room, keeping it quiet but the passion was the same and it crackled around them but no one commented or said anything and Harry and Louis on top of each other, gasping breaths and closed eyes and stuttering hips became normal, routine and it was just another one of their quirks.

**~**

  
It became like a game, to see how far they could push. None of them had ever been shy in any way around the others and Louis and Harry exploited that, playing on Harry's exhibitionist streak at the same time that Louis gently prodded the boundaries. There wasn’t a moment, a single epiphany where he'd consciously started to do it, they all faded into it, as easy as breathing, the lines between friendship and _more_ slowly blurring until they didn’t know where they stood or what this was but they knew it meant something to them all, and it was big and complete and it was all they needed.

It was always having a bed to sleep in or a shoulder to cry on or an arm for a cuddle or someone to make tea in the morning. It was always having someone there to talk to or laugh with or cry with and Louis and Harry pushed these slowly blurring boundaries, kissing and touching and moaning and breathing heavily in front of the others, making the couch creak and their clothes rustle with their slowly moving hips, carefully monitoring the others reactions until they were too far gone, their lust to insatiable to care and the others didn’t matter, it was all Harry and Harry's lips and Harry's hand and Harry's lap and he could still feel the others, still in the room, still breathing and still ignoring him and Harry. Sometimes they were close enough to touch and they never seemed uncomfortable or disgusted, just uneasy as though they were sure they _should_ feel uncomfortable and slightly worried that they didn’t. It didn’t get old.

Louis was sure that by now, surely, Harry should have stopped provoking the same reaction in him, one _look_ or suggestive sentence or lick of the lips shouldn’t be enough to get him rock hard in his pants but it did, like he was sixteen again and he didn’t have the heart to complain just because he had an incredibly sexy boyfriend who never failed to turn him on and lightening still flashed when they were together, whether they were holding hands or kissing chastely or fucking like animals in heat and Louis was sure that it was only getting stronger, that he was only falling more and more in love with Harry as the days went by. They were only getting better and better at what they did best, learning what each other liked best and how to touch to make the other see stars and fall apart and their kisses were sweeter and Louis craved more every kiss he got, he sometimes wanted to stay inside of Harry and never pull out, stay feeling so surrounded and so trusted and so loved and so _good_ that he could make Harry fall apart without even touching his cock just by being inside him like this and moving a certain way and their passion for each other only grew.

**~**

  
  
Zayn was the first one to not back out of the room he walked in on Harry and Louis panting and gasping and moaning, Harry bent nearly in half as Louis filled him up, split him open, half way through the dance they had practised many times before but it never got old, only better and many, many times they had been walked in on, living in such close quarters with the other boys and it no longer bothered them, never really had that the other boys should see this physical representation of their love. They knew the instant Zayn stepped inside the room but they didn’t pause, Louis instead thrusting harder because he knew having someone watching turned Harry on unbelievably so and Harry's fingers raked down Louis’ sweaty back, making him shudder and bite down on Harry's salty shoulder and Harry’s head was thrown back, back arching up into Louis' thrusts, his hands on the back of his own thighs, holding them up and open and filthy moans escaping his mouth and yet his eyes weren’t closed, they were locked with Zayn’s brown ones. Zayn seemed to shudder from the intensity in Harry's gaze as they stared, Harry's pupils would be blown wide with lust, Louis knew, lightening flashing and crackling and sizzling and exploding and Louis panted and swore above him, the bed was shaking know with the force of his thrusts, his muscles clenching and burning in the best way possible and Zayn’s eyes were shocked and apologetic for walking in but more than slightly intrigued and more than a bit aroused. Zayn and Harry's eyes stayed locked, Louis’ flickering between them and closing in pleasure, even as Harry's hips jerked up to meet his, his thrusts erratic and stuttering now that he was close and Harry was closer and Harry was _gone_ , eyes locked on Zayn’s even as he cried Louis name and streaked their stomachs with white. Louis was fucking him through it, fucking him through the aftershocks, desperate to achieve his own release now and it was Harry's name he gasped as he filled the younger boy up. He finally looked at Zayn, properly looked at Zayn and hid a smirk with a pant at his dilated pupils and obvious erection and Zayn made an agonised noise in the back of his throat and as Louis gently pulled out, his eyes stayed connected with Zayn’s.

Harry's were fluttering shut, exhaustion and his orgasm overcoming him and Louis smoothed back Harry's hair of his sweaty forehead, and he could tell Zayn now felt uncomfortable, like he was witnessing something more private, more intimate than their love making and he was right, as Louis whispered his love and adoration and sweet nothings into his boyfriend’s ear, taking care of him and _loving_ him, eyes still flicking up to Zayn occasionally who hadn't moved since stepping in the room. He pressed kisses to Harry's face, his eyelids and his cheeks and his forehead and his nose and his lips and when he looked up again, Zayn was gone.

**~**

  
Somewhere along the road their ‘ _I love you’s’_ had become a little less platonic, the kisses on cheeks and foreheads a little more meaningful and the boys began to feel like home. They hadn't intended it, but none of them had fought it. They all realised continuing this, whatever _this_ was would be as easy as falling, as natural as blinking and fighting it would be clawing up a cliff, tooth and nail, with nothing but self-control and fingertips and none of them had the strength. No one had the determination or the self-control, not even Liam and maybe it had been building for a long time, whatever it was. Maybe the earliest tendrils of it had floated around them at the bungalow and they hadn't noticed. Maybe when they melted into groups hugs during X Factor, the way their bodies and minds were already so comfortable with each other. Maybe it was after that, long tours and singings and constant contact with the boys, caught up in their own little bubble.

But now, Louis realised it had always been there, in one way or another. The glances at boot camp or before when they first set eyes on each other. It was in the gazes that lingered slightly too long, the slightly more-than-friendly touches, more kissing on cheeks and foreheads and noses and shoulders than what was strictly appropriate. The way they'd bonded nearly instantly, and the way they all balanced each other out, Zayn’s nonchalance and Liam's calm balancing Louis’ hyper and Niall’s excitable and Harry's fiery passion, Liam's mothering and Nialls’ carefree balancing Harry's stressing and Zayn’s worrying and Louis’ insecurity. The way they all built the others up and reminded them to come down when they'd been flying too long, head caught too much in the clouds and eyes losing sight of the ground below and in the way none of them had felt strange or uncomfortable changing in front of one another or wearing each other’s clothes.

It was in the way they all knew each other better than anyone else, friends or family; in the way drunken spin the bottle games had never affected them in the morning. It was in everything they did, an inevitability, and the only thing holding this back was _themselves_ and it was only a matter of _when_.

**~**

Niall was the first one to join in. Much the same as Zayn, he'd walked in on them. This time, unlike every other time since the start of X Factor he hadn't gone red and covered his eyes and walked out, or, later, when everyone was used to walking in on them, rolled his eyes and made a smart ass comment before leaving. No, this time, he stayed. His angelic blue eyes were fixed on where Harry's cock was being sucked into Louis’ mouth, already looking red and abused and Louis was on his knees, moaning like a whore around Harry and Harry's fingers were in his hair, clenching so tight that his knuckles must have been white, the pain only adding to Louis’ arousal and Harry's powerful thigh muscles were clenching and bunching and releasing next to Louis’ head as he struggled to stay upright and his toes were curling into the carpet. Louis looked up and could see that Harry’s head was thrown back and his throat was taut and in his peripheral vision he could see that Niall hadn't left and he hadn't stayed rooted to the spot but he was slowly moving closer, as if hypnotised. A groan spilled out of his throat and his eyes stayed locked on Harry's cock and Louis’ mouth as he muttered that ‘you boys are _killin’_ me here.’

But then he'd reached Harry and put and hand on his back and Harry didn’t startle or jump but Louis could _feel_ his cock get impossibly harder in his mouth and when he looked up Harry had turned his head and was kissing Niall, Harry's lips claiming the blonde boy’s, Harry in charge and Harry _pushing_ and _taking_ and _giving_ and _shoving_ and their tongues were intertwining, Louis could see and Harry's hips were bucking so much that Louis put his hands on them to stop him or he would choke. Niall’s hand had moved from Harry's back to his hair, the other running over the muscles in Harry's chest and Louis felt as though watching his boyfriend make out with one of his best friends should have bothered him more, but it didn’t, not at all and all he could think was how _hot_ it was and the visuals shot straight to his cock and he was so hard he was going to _explode_ and he looked up and Niall, Harry having pulled back from the kiss to groan and breathe and Louis hollowed out his cheeks and took him in as far as he could until tears burned in his eyes and Harry grunted and spilled down his throat.

Niall looked to be in pain almost, pupils so big only a thin ring of blue surrounded them, and as Harry panted and tried to recover above him Louis was struck by a crazy desire to _taste_ and he had to _know_ and _feel_ and he moved unconsciously, his hand pausing on Nialls jean’s button, asking for permission and Niall bit his lip and moaned and looked at Harry and Harry swore and gasped for ‘ _please Louis’_ and that was enough for Niall and it was enough for Louis. Doubt crept into Nialls eyes but then Louis had his mouth on his cock and a hand on his balls and Niall lost it, body taking over and hips thrusting and he wasn’t thinking about wrong or right he was thinking about Louis’ mouth and Harry had recovered enough to be kissing Nialls neck, arms wrapped around him from behind and hands lightly stroking Nialls pale nipples and it was too much for Niall and he didn’t last more than two minutes, crying out brokenly as a tear escaped his clenched eyes and he shattered and he _broke_ and Louis lapped it up until there was nothing left.

Niall was shaking and Louis was so sure he had regretted it but when he opened his eyes the blue only shone with gratitude and thanks and arousal still and Harry’s huge, warm, calm hand covered Niall’s as they stroked Louis off together and the memories of what had just happened and the feel of different hands on him and the wrongness but the rightness of it was too much and their fingers were interlocked as they brought him to breaking, his head falling back in a silent cry. After, Harry pulled both Niall and Louis onto one of the beds, squeezing in close on the small tour bus standard and Louis rested his head on Harry's chest, feeling rather than seeing Niall do the same as his breath washed over his face and Niall’s eyelashes brushed his cheek and Harry's hand was warm and safe and huge on his naked back and as Harry pressed a kiss into Louis hair and whispered a quick ‘ _love you’_ Louis reached out and grabbed Niall’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they all drifted off to sleep, not quite understanding what had happened but none of them regretting it.

**~**

It was the little things, the small touches no one else noticed, their inside jokes and their secret ways of communicating. The hand signals and the faces pulled. The way how everyone knew how Louis liked his tea. The way how everyone picked up Nialls things automatically from where he dropped them chronically. The way Liam woke Niall and Zayn and checked in to see that Louis and Harry were alright before going to get Zayn out of bed properly. The way they had routines and rituals no one else would understand. The way Niall could make them all laugh, no matter how bad the day. The way Harry could still light him on fire with one glance. The way Zayn’s chiselled features made his fingers tingle and the way Nialls sweet face made his heart ache and the way Liam's sculpted chest made his toes curl. The way their cologne blended with each other’s, not over powering but comforting and familiar. The way kisses and touches were the same as food and air to them. The way that Louis felt no jealousy when Niall or Liam or Zayn looked at Harry like he was the sun itself.

The way that their bodies melded together like they were all made to fit in the gaps of each other. The way Louis was the perfect height to tuck under Harry's chin when he hugged him. The way Niall loved so much and so selflessly and just wanted to be loved in return. The way that Zayn tried to pretend it didn’t matter than Liam didn’t notice him and didn’t notice the changing dynamics. The way Liam was completely oblivious to Zayn’s looks and always had been. The way the Louis and Harry claimed each other and marked each other with _love_ and _kisses_ and _bruises_ from hands slightly too tight and lips slightly too hard. The way that the boys _understood_. The way that each and every one of them was beautiful, so gorgeous it made Louis’ stomach hurt.

The way that he thought that maybe, just maybe they could make being _together,_ being together in a way saved for him and Harry and lovers all over the world usually was, work. The way that Liam's half grin and Zayn’s smoking and Nialls dirty mind made his trousers tight and his heart pound. The way that they already were _together_ , more together and connected than most people would be lucky to ever be in their lives. The way it would require no effort at all to fall in love with each of them and how it would seem as natural as anything to do that.

**~**

  
Liam was the last. He'd walked in on them countless times, and it no longer ruffled him in the slightest but neither Harry nor Louis could see that spark of desire, that hint of ‘ _what if’_ in his eyes and it hurt them for reasons they couldn’t understand. Louis had fully accepted that this _could_ happen, this mad, half-cocked idea that wasn’t really an idea but a choice, an inevitability, a gradual change that none of them would notice, and it would be hard and it was crazy but they could do it, he knew they could. They would have to be really careful, perhaps more careful than they'd ever been in their lives, even with Louis and Harry’s relationship because as scandalous as it was, it was really nothing on the five of them _together_. Somehow he'd convinced Harry of this, not so much with reasoned, thought out conversations but half sentences and guttural desire and meaningful looks when one of them needed to be close to the others and didn’t understand why.

Harry was convinced and Niall just wanted to be loved, the more the better and he'd accepted the idea, caught onto what Harry and Louis were wanting and accepted it without a blink and wanted it just as much as them, needed it and Zayn, Zayn; Louis had no idea of his motivations but he wanted in, whether Zayn  knew it himself or not, because Louis could see it in his eyes and see it in his erection and hear it in Zayn's throaty moans and panting moans as he brought himself off after listening or watching him and Harry or him and Harry and Niall go at it and now Liam was the only one he needed to convince.  
  
Liam was frustratingly, furiously, obstinately convinced he was _straight_ and convinced he felt _nothing_ but brotherly affection towards the boys and convinced it _wasn’t_ Zayn who got him so hard he could burst and convinced that when it was Zayn or Louis or Niall or Harry he thought of when he touched himself it was _just_ because he was in such close contact with the boys, all the time, and he'd tried so hard to convince himself of these things he very nearly believed them. None of them spoke of it, not even when Zayn finally stopped watching and walked over and joined in, not when the four of them discovered that Niall had a natural, if slightly clumsy affinity for giving head, not even when the four of them lay together in sweaty, naked aftermath and sighed, but they all knew none of them would feel truly comfortable with this until Liam was there too.

~

  
It was Zayn, in the end, something that surprised no one but Zayn and Liam himself, that made Liam snap. Weeks of the boys disappearing and coming back smelling like sin and sex, weeks of the boys making no attempt to hide what they were doing, weeks of running down Liam's resistance with suggestive gestures and looks and touches and Niall himself had half given Liam a hand job before Liam got too overwhelmed and confused and ran off, leaving the others sighing and plotting. None of their plots had time to work though. Liam did it himself. Liam had finally split, his calm facade ruptured after Zayn had winked one too many times, dragged an unlit cigarette across his lips, swung his hips slightly too seductively but Liam's fractured nerves had taken enough and all it took was Liam to glance sideways as the two of them were watching something menial on the telly, and Zayn's profile was lit up by the half light of the TV and his teeth dug into hips lips and Liam literally sprung at him. The force of his dive knocked Zayn off the couch, and Liam didn’t give him a chance to sit up before he was sitting on him, all hard muscle and a manic desperation in his eyes and he grabbed Zayn's wrists and pulled them above Zayn's head, pinning them to the ground there and leaning down with a groan to kiss Zayn as if his life depended on it, all teeth and tongue and no technique, pure desperation and frustration and anger and Liam took it out on Zayn's mouth and Zayn couldn’t do anything but kiss back with the same intensity and concentrate on breathing.

Liam was strong and heavy and muscly above him and Zayn wasn’t used to being so vulnerable and so dominated but it made fire course through his veins and rather than struggling to flip them over he wrapped his legs around Liam's ass and dug his heels in, gasping against Liam's angry lips as the contact made their denim covered crotches slam together and Liam groaned, throaty and deep and sexy and _fuck_ and he appeared to be pulling back and Zayn couldn’t let that happen, not now when the boy he'd been fucking pining after for over a year was solid and warm and aroused above him. He his tilted his head up, not allowing Liam to get away as he kept their lips together, pathetic whining noises escaping his throat as he clenched his leg muscles again, pulling Liam in and this time Liam didn’t stiffen and pull away but melted into Zayn and pulled his hips back slightly and rolled them and it was animalistic and ferocious and it was everything that Liam Payne wasn’t. It was stunning and it took Zayn's breath away to have been the one to do this, the one the get under his skin and release his inhibitions and create the monster that knew how to use his lips and his hips and he wasn’t afraid to do so. They wrestled on the floor, neither willing to release the other to get rid of clothes but half tugging at flimsy material as they kissed and moaned and writhed, filthy and dirty and then their shirts were gone and it was skin on skin and it was ecstasy and somehow Zayn had use of his hands again and he rubbed them up and down Liam's sculpted chest and over his back and curled them into his hair and Liam was doing the same, exploring every inch of exposed skin with fingertips and nails and kissing and biting down Zayn's chest and neck, flicking a dark nipple with a tongue and biting it roughly. Zayn’s hips bucked and the feeling went straight to his overheated groin and he was on fire. Liam's eyes had lost their manic gleam now, but his pupils were as wide and black as Zayn had ever seen them and their hips were constantly meeting now, Liam's rolling erotically and Zayn's bucking wildly and he was going to come in his pants like a fourteen year old but he wasn’t letting Liam go to get rid of pants and the forbidden feeling of this, half clothed on the floor, knowing anyone could walk in at any moment sent a thrill up Zayn's spine. His hips were jerking without any rhythm now as he desperately searched for friction and he was so close and his chest was covered with Liam's naked, firm muscles and his mouth felt red and raw and sensitive but Liam didn’t let up on his assault, kissing and licking and biting Zayn's lips and then Liam was grunting and swearing and cursing Zayn's name and them going limp and knowing he'd caused Liam to reach his release was all he needed and he stopped clinging on to sanity and the sky exploded beneath his eyelids.  
  
When he floated back down to reality he felt disgusting and sweaty and yet he felt like this was _it_ , this had changed something _big_ and something _huge_ and his hand came up unconsciously to stroke the side of Liam's face but then he saw Liam's eyes and he recoiled like Liam's skin was burning because he saw horror and shame and regret warring in Liam's eyes. He felt sick because this had obviously meant more to him than to Liam and Liam obviously wished it had never happened and when Liam stood up and shakily apologised, sounding just as horrified and sickened as he looked, Zayn couldn’t do anything but lie there, covered in his own come and sweat, watching Liam walk away and a feeling worse than the slowly-cooling come in his boxers settled into his stomach and he closed his eyes and lay where Liam had left him.

~

  
A crying Liam was not something Louis ever wanted to see again. Liam was the one who kept everything together, the one who smiled when everything was falling apart, the  one who pulled the boys up when they'd sunk too far, the one who was strong and in charge and always, annoyingly, completely in control.  And now, he was sitting on the closed toilet seat, eyes red and streaming and huge sobs wracking his body and he looked shattered and his lips looked wrecked and Louis heart sunk like a stone in his chest and he quickly figured out something had happened. He turned to Harry who had followed him into the bathroom and mouthed at him to _go find Zayn_ and Harry understood instantly, a look of dawning worry in his eyes as he pecked Louis on the lips and left to go hunt down Zayn who, Louis was sure, was bound to be just as bad, if not worse.

Louis padded over to Liam, unsure of what to do but sure he had to do _something_ , _anything_ because Liam was like a puppy dog, it was sickening to see him upset and so down and Louis had to do something, anything to make him feel better. And so he sat cross-legged on the cool tiles, pulling Liam off the toilet and down into his lap, the larger boy seeming small and vulnerable and huddled as he curled into Louis, and Louis stroked his hair, smoothing it off his over-heated forehead and pressing gentle, comforting kisses to his forehead. Liam clung to his shoulders and everything spilled out of him in a rush, everything about how he didn’t think he was _straight_ and how he'd practically _attacked_ Zayn and how he'd _hurt_ him and how he had feelings he didn’t _understand_ , how Zayn made his heart flutter but he felt that with _all_ the boys, even if it was a little stronger around the darker boy and everything Liam had thought he knew was changing in front of his eyes and he couldn’t control it and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold on and that he was really, truly, honestly terrified about what would happen if he let go.

Louis pulled Liam's hands off his shoulders and kissed Liam's white knuckles and looked him in the eyes and told him that it was _okay_ to let go, it was _okay_ to not be strong for a while and it was _okay_ to be confused and it was _okay_ to let someone else be in charge and it was _okay_ to feel these things and it was _okay_ not to be okay. Liam surged forward and pressed his lips to Louis’ desperately, searchingly and Louis didn’t fight it and didn’t respond, letting Liam figure out whatever he needed to figure out and he let Liam kiss and sob and squeeze it out until the tears dried and Liam pulled back, licking his lips and looking a little less confused and yet still wretched and Louis took pity on him, cleaning him up and getting him into his favourite pyjamas and pulling him into the double bed in Harry and Louis’ room, letting Liam curl into his side, leaning a head on Louis’ shoulder and let him be looked after, showing him that he didn’t have to be doing to looking after all the time.

Liam dropped off to sleep quickly, tears and emotions exhausting him and Louis stroked his face as he slept and wondered how it was he'd ever thought of Liam as a man, because they were all still kids, really, and Liam looked so peaceful and young like this. Looking up as the bed moved, Louis saw Niall climbing in the other side, attaching himself to Liam's back as he shuffled over, cuddling in, telling Louis that he'd been told what had happened by Harry and Louis didn’t dare ask how Zayn was for fear of waking up Liam and so he and Niall lay and watched the face of their sleeping, upset friend for a while, until Niall nodded off too, his lips resting against Liam's short hair. 

**~**

  
Louis must have slipped off into sleep because the next thing he knew, his drunken boyfriend was banging into the room and the neon numbers on the dresser told him it was past two. Sighing fondly as Harry stumbled towards the bed, looking wrecked and drunk as hell, Louis obediently lifted up the covers as he let his idiot boyfriend clamber ungracefully in and snuggle into Louis side, Harry's face nuzzling against Louis’ shoulder and when Louis blurrily asked how Zayn was Harry snorted quietly and told him Zayn was drunk and upset and sleeping and completely in love with Zayn. Louis nearly laughed because he'd seen it since their X Factor days and Liam was completely in love with Zayn too, no matter how firmly in denial he was and they could both avoid all this pain if they would just talk about their feelings. Letting it go for now, Louis fell back asleep with his boyfriend behind him, warm and sleepy and cosy, and his upset friend curled into his side and Niall with an arm and a leg thrown over Liam and it was loving and cosy and missing Zayn but for now Louis focused on the three heartbeats he could feel and drifted off again.

**~**

  
Niall had suggested that they lock Liam and Zayn in a room together and one would come out dead or fucked, literally, and while Louis and Harry had ignored his rather crude idea, they admitted it had some merit and sat down a bloodshot-eyed Zayn and a bleary, red-rimmed eyed Liam and informed them in no uncertain terms that they would discuss this like adults and Louis and Harry left for five minutes and while neither Zayn or Liam would ever tell them what happened in that room while they were gone, when they re-entered there were tears on both boys cheeks but a smile on their faces and their lips were attached through the grins and Louis wrapped an arm around Harry's waist as they stood in the doorway and watched their two friends kiss like proud parents.

**~**

  
  
Nothing changed between them. Nothing was noticed amiss in interviews, even the day after Liam had insisted they _talk_ about this thing, whatever it was, and not one of them had _talked_ about it before. Laying it out so boldly and unashamedly; _a polyamorous, homosexual, completely unmoral and against societal norms and decency relationship_ , and while no one had a problem with it, the next day was slightly awkward as they avoided the gaze of interviewer and Niall and Harry shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Nothing was odd in their house, everyone still picked up after Niall, everyone still made Louis’ tea just how he liked it, but now there were pecks on the lips as they passed each other, absent-mindedly bending over the couch to kiss whoever was sitting on it, cheeky slaps on butts and more _love_ in the house. Zayn and Liam shared a room now, but they were right next to Harry and Louis’ room, and Niall had no problem with, insisting he was too messy and snored too loud to share a room but some nights he would sneak into Harry and Louis’ room, or Zayn and Liam's and snuggle in with them. They depended on each other even more now, their co-dependant bond exaggerated only further and it wasn’t long before Louis remembered thinking that it would be so _easy_ to fall in love with all four of them, and he realised he had.  
  
~  
If Harry was his lightening then Niall was his sunshine, the summer day that was constant and happy and yet could still burn him if he got too close, sun blazing with the same passion that flashed in Harry's eyes, whether lust for them or lust for music or lust for love, it was there and Niall was beautiful, a pure, cloudless day and he made Louis’ day just that little bit brighter. Zayn was his stars, in the way you have to coax them out, it has to be a clear sky and it has to be night and only at certain times did Zayn feel up to it but just like the stars he was always there, actively participating or watching from a corner, always there and always comforting and exploding in a supernova when you least expect it. Liam was the moon, shining with a constant light, never as passionate with him as with Zayn but always there, softly lighting a room with his love and his lust and he could be a full moon, shining, glowing, completely lost in it and lunging into them with reckless abandon or he could be half there but mind elsewhere, usually on Zayn and those were the times when it was slower and more caring and Louis’ heart could shatter. Together they lit up a room, shone brightly and completely and nothing made more sense than this, then them together because it had always been this way and there was no other option, nothing was better than this and they flew and they shone.  
  
It might have been fucked up and it might have been sick and more than slightly dysfunctional but it was what they had and it was gold and it was all the good they had in their lives and they weren’t going to let anything or anyone change this. It was in the slowly changing dynamics of their friendships and it was in the shine of the eyes of everyone when they fell upon each other. It was in the lighting up of their faces when one of the others walked into a room and it was in the drunken kisses and touches that had always happened _slightly_ too much and it was in their every word and their every look and it shone around them, glinting gold. The lines had shimmered and flickered, boundaries hovering and breaking until there were no lines left to cross, the boundaries simply melted away and they were more than _friends_ and more than _lovers_ and more than _anything_ , it was gold and it was late nights and it was half drunk conversations and it was clumsy blow jobs in the tour bus’ bathroom and it was the pulling of hair and the winking on stage and teeth and lips and the crashing of hips together and the slamming of crotches and the panting of their breaths and it was _them._ They were shining bright and it was the same as it had always been.


End file.
